


Of Ninjas, Wizards, and Avengers

by BananasofThorns



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Is Frank lowkey crushing on Matt? Probably, Light Angst, Matt doesn't like the Avengers, Ninjas - Freeform, Oops, This was supposed to be more focused on Stephen and Matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 19:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18901174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananasofThorns/pseuds/BananasofThorns
Summary: He shoots two ninjas that are getting annoyingly close, but one of them nicks his right shoulder. He shoots that one again. Frank can see at least ten bodies lying on the ground, not counting Red, but it seems like they’ve hardly made a dent. He’s running out of bullets and Red is down for the count. It’s becoming increasingly clear that they’re going to die here.Stabbed by ninjas. What a way to go.“Someone’s coming,” Red grunts, just as the air starts to spark a few feet behind the ninjas. Before Frank can fully comprehend what’s going on, an honest-to-God portal opens.





	Of Ninjas, Wizards, and Avengers

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be more focused on Stephen and Matt but it turned into Matt and Frank. That probably has something to do with the fact that I wrote it from Frank's perspective, but oh well.

Frank Castle is having a bad day.

When he woke up, fighting ninjas was not on high on his list of plans for the day. It wasn’t on the list at all, actually. And yet here he is, standing in the middle of an abandoned warehouse with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, shooting anything that gets too close.

Red’s not even arguing with him for killing, so that says something about how bad this is going.

There’s a cut on his left arm and his ribs feel bruised. Red is doing worse than he is. Frank is surprised he’s still standing because the ninjas seem to be targeting him and they aren’t holding back.

Just as he thinks it, though, one of the ninjas gets under Red’s defenses and the Devil goes down with a cry of pain. Frank shoots the ninja right between the eyes and rushes over.

“Dammit, Red. Don’t die on me now.” Another ninja gets a bullet.

“Not planning on it,” Red wheezes out, but there’s a concerning amount of blood on his lips. Even in the dim lighting, Frank can see at least two gashes in his suit.

“Sorry about this,” he says, shrugging off his jacket and placing it over what he thinks is the worst of Red’s wounds. “Need to put pressure on it.” He rests his knee over the jacket, ignoring Red’s curses.

He shoots two ninjas that are getting annoyingly close, but one of them nicks his right shoulder. He shoots that one again. Frank can see at least ten bodies lying on the ground, not counting Red, but it seems like they’ve hardly made a dent. He’s running out of bullets and Red is down for the count. It’s becoming increasingly clear that they’re going to die here.

Stabbed by ninjas. What a way to go.

“Someone’s coming,” Red grunts, just as the air starts to spark a few feet behind the ninjas. Before Frank can fully comprehend what’s going on, an honest-to-God  _ portal _ opens.

A man dressed in blue robes and a red cape steps out and the portal closes behind him. His robes are different than the ninjas’, but Frank shoots at him anyway, just in case. The man deflects his bullet with an orange circle glowing the same way as the portal had.

“I’m trying to  _ help _ you, asshole,” the man spits as he throws the glowy circle towards a ninja. It folds itself in half as it hits, rebounding off the first ninja and into another. They both collapse.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?” Frank grumbles back, shooting a ninja that was attempting to sneak up on the man. He gets a curt nod of thanks in return.

“Do you know where the ninjas are from?” The man asks, ignoring Frank’s question.

“They’re the Hand,” Red says, coughing up a bit of blood. Frank curses and puts more pressure on his wounds. “They don’t have heartbeats.”

The man curses as well. “We need to get you two some medical attention. Give me a moment.”

Frank opens his mouth to ask how, exactly, he plans on getting rid of at least twenty more ninjas. He’s cut off by a strange cracking noise, like the sound of shattering glass but magnified to five times louder. Red curls away from the sound. When he turns to ask the man what the hell he’s doing, he finds that the air in front of him looks shattered and reflective. Like a mirror, kind of.

Suddenly the man is beside him. He makes a pushing motion and the weird mirror air rushes forward into the ninjas. When the air returns to normal, the ninjas are gone. The man wastes no time in kneeling beside Red.

“Who the hell  _ are _ you? And what the hell was that?” Frank asks as the man pushes him to the side.

“Doctor Stephen Strange. That was the mirror dimension.” Frank opens his mouth to ask when Strange turns to him with a surprisingly scary glare. “Shut up and let me work unless you want your friend to bleed out before we can get him real medical help.”

Frank has a lot of questions, including but not limited to “Aren’t  _ you _ real medical help, being a doctor and all?”, but he actually doesn’t want Red to die, so he shuts up.

His jacket is damp with Red’s blood at this point, but Frank puts it back on anyway. He can clean it later. Strange leans over Red’s body, muttering in a language Frank doesn’t know. Golden light is emitting from his hands. His eyes are closed, but Frank is pretty sure he can see the same light shining from beneath his eyelids.

After a minute or so, Strange leans back. The glow fades from his hands and eyes.

“Your friend will live, but we need to get you both to a someplace that can stitch you up.”

“You’re a doctor,” Frank says. “Why can’t you do it?”

Strange raises an unamused eyebrow and holds his hands up to his face. The backs of each of his hands are badly scarred and they’re shaking with a tremor Frank hadn’t noticed. It’s clear Strange can no longer do tasks that require as much precision as doing stitches.

“Oh.”

Strange rolls his eyes and tosses a phone at Frank. “Call Tony Stark, would you?” He asks as he turns his attention back to Red.

Frank wants to ask how a man like Stephen Strange would know a man like Tony Stark, but he’s pretty sure Strange would do  _ something _ to him if he did, so he doesn’t. Stark picks up after the second ring. Frank puts the call on speaker and places the phone next to Strange.

“Stephen?”

“Hi,” Strange says. “I need to use your medbay, and also Sam Wilson or anyone who’s competent at stitching people up.”

Stark hesitates for a moment. “Don’t tell me you’re bleeding out somewhere.”

“Nope, but I have two vigilantes who are.” Frank starts to protest that  _ he’s _ not bleeding out, but Strange silences him with a look. After a stunned pause, Stark speaks.

“Well, shit. See you soon, Doc.” The line goes dead.

“I need you to wrap around his torso so he doesn’t lose more blood,” Strange says, stuffing the phone back into his robes. Frank’s not sure who he’s talking to until his cloak twitches off of his shoulders and wraps around Red.

Strange puts an odd-looking ring onto his fingers and circles his arm around. A portal opens. He puts the ring back onto one of his many belts and picks Red up, easy as can be. Frank follows him through the portal, a little dazed. He has  _ so many _ questions.

His surprise quickly turns to wariness when he comes face-to-face with most of the Avengers. Strange walks right past them and lays Red on a medical table. The cloak removes itself from Red’s torso. A man who could possibly be Sam Wilson immediately starts attempting to take the Daredevil suit off with the help of someone who Frank thinks is Bruce Banner. They don’t get very far before Strange rolls his eyes and cuts it off with a glowing orange knife. Red makes a small sound of annoyance.

“I’m sure Tony can make you a new one. Can’t he?” Strange directs the last part at Stark, who nods a bit belatedly.

“Yeah, yeah, totally. Is that Daredevil?”

“Yes.”

Tony turns to Frank. “And you’re the Punisher.” Frank nods reluctantly. “I thought you were dead.”

Strange cuts Frank off before he can answer. “He’s not, but he’s going to be if someone doesn’t stitch him up.”

“I can do it myself,” Frank mutters. He wants to add that he won’t actually die unless he doesn’t get any medical attention for a few days. All his protests die when Strange turns to glare at him. The man can be incredibly intimidating when he wants to be.

Banner breaks away from Wilson and Red and directs Frank to another medical table. Frank obediently takes off his jacket and shirt, wincing when the fabric sticks to some of the cuts. Banner frowns at him.

“What were you guys fighting, anyway?”

“Ninjas.” Nobody in the room really looks that surprised.

“I couldn’t hear their heartbeats,” Red adds while Wilson cleans a cut on his stomach. Now people look surprised.

“You can hear  _ heartbeats? _ ”

“So they were dead?”

“They were dead. I think. They’re not anymore.”

“They’re zombies?”

“No-” Red starts, but Wilson shushes him.

“Hey. Daredevil. I don’t care if you’ve had a lot of practice with being stitched up, which you obviously have, but I would appreciate it if you would stop talking for a moment. Thanks.” 

Red shuts up.

“So where are the ninjas now?” Stark asks.

“There are fifteen or so bodies in a warehouse somewhere in Hell’s Kitchen, assuming the Hand hasn’t retrieved them,” Strange says. “I sent the rest into the mirror dimension. I’ll deal with them later.” Frank feels gratified when he sees that no one else seems to know what the mirror dimension is, either.

Twenty minutes later, Frank is pulling his bloodstained shirt back on, trying not to tear his stitches. Meanwhile, Red is attempting to fight Wilson, who wants to take off his mask and check for a concussion.

“There’s a  _ reason _ I wear a mask,” Red’s saying, gesturing angrily. “It’s so people don’t know my identity!”

“We’re not exactly ordinary people,” Stark says in an attempt to calm Red down. It fails miserably.

“Yeah, you’re  _ worse _ , because every time there’s a crisis you’re going to come running to me for help! Well, guess what, Stark! I don’t want to help you! I’m perfectly happy to stay in Hell’s Kitchen and fight ninjas, thank you very much!”

“We would respect your boundaries!” Strange raises a skeptical eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. “Besides, you could get medical help if you worked with us.”

“I  _ have _ someone for that!” Red gestures to his chest, which is scattered with old scars. “Did you think I stitched  _ myself _ up for all of these? I’m  _ fine _ .” This statement is slightly contradicted by the fact that Red sways slightly while saying it. Frank decides he should step in, not that Red will listen to him, either.

“Hey, hey. Red. Listen to me. They’re just trying to help. We would probably be dead if Strange hasn’t shown up.”

Red pushes him aside. “Well, he’s not exactly part of the Avengers. Are you?” He asks, tilting his head towards Strange, who shrugs.

“Not exactly, no, but they’re not all bad. They helped save your life. Without them, you would’ve bled out, no matter what I did. Magic can only go so far.”

Red huffs. “I don’t have a concussion. I’m fine. Let me go.”

Stark raises an eyebrow. “Wearing what? I’m not sure if you noticed, but your fetish gear-”

“Armor.”

“- _ fetish gear _ is pretty torn up.”

“Just let me check for a concussion,” Wilson says, raising his hands placatingly. “Tony can fix your suit and then you can go.” He doesn’t say that it would take a while for Stark to fix said suit, but Frank’s pretty sure Red knows it anyway.

“No.” Frank sighs and pulls Red to the side.

“Listen, Murdock.” Red jerks, surprised, and Frank rolls his eyes. “You’re telling me you thought I didn’t know? And here I was, thinking you were smart.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’ll meet you there, sunshine.” Red growls at him and Frank holds his hands up. “Okay, okay. But you should let him check for a concussion. Those ninjas weren’t holding back.”

“I’m  _ fine _ , Frank,” Red says. He’s swaying slightly.

“No, you’re not. Let them check you. You’re a lawyer, Red. If they bother you, you can sue them.”

There’s a pause. “Fine,” Red finally mutters, pushing past Frank. He walks back towards Wilson, taking his helmet off as he goes. Multiple people look surprised at how good-looking he is, even with dried blood on his temple. Wilson frowns at him.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Thanks, I get that a lot,” Red - Murdock, he’s not the Devil right now - says.

Wilson cleans the blood off Murdock’s face first, despite the man’s many protests that he can do it himself. There’s a cut on his forehead, but it’s small and Wilson puts some butterfly stitches on it and tells Murdock not to reopen it. He checks for a concussion next. Murdock tenses like he’s ready to either fight or run.

“...your pupils aren’t dilating.” Murdock doesn’t say anything. Everyone else stops what they’re doing and turns to look. “You don’t have any light perception.”

“No.”

“You’re blind.” It’s not a question. It feels like the entire room is holding its breath.

Murdock hesitates. “Yes.”

“How the fuck-?” Stark asks, ignoring the look Strange gives him.

“It’s a long story that I’m sure you’d love to hear. Can you continue checking if I have a concussion?”

Wilson looks like he wants to pry, but he decides against it. It’s a good decision.

“Alright. Headache, nausea, dizziness? Do you have any of those?”

“Headache.”

“When did it start?”

“As soon as I stepped foot in this room.” Wilson rolls his eyes.

“Really?”

“No. It started sometime after one of the ninjas hit me in the head with the butt of his sword.”

“Any troubles with physical coordination? Any changes in your senses? Any troubles with memory or focusing?”

“Coordination is a bit slower than usual. I’m a bit wobbly. Senses are...fine. I wish I had trouble focusing on all of you staring at me.”

Wilson glances at Frank. “Is he always like this?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Right. I would ask if you’ve had concussions before, but you’re Daredevil so I’m going to assume the answer is yes.” Wilson sighs. “You probably have a mild concussion. I’m banning you from Daredeviling for at least two weeks so you can heal. If I hear that you tore your stitches or made your concussion worse, I  _ will _ hunt you down.”

“Okay.” 

Wilson squints at Murdock suspiciously but leaves him be.

“Alright!” Stark exclaims, clapping his hands. “We were just about to start movie night when Stephen called. All three of you are welcome to join us.” He pauses. “And by welcome, I mean you’re  _ going _ to join us. You’re not going back out in your states.” Strange mutters something that sounds like  _ “Says you.” _

Frank opens his mouth to protest. Murdock does the same. Stark shushes them both.

“Ah, ah, ah. My house, my rules. You’re staying. Steve or someone can lend you clothes unless you want to spend the night shirtless or in something bloodstained. I’ll have a new suit for you in a few days.”

“I better be allowed to leave before then.”

“Yeah, yeah, you will be. Where should I drop it off?”

Murdock hesitates for a moment like he’s debating with himself. “The firm of Nelson, Murdock, and Page.” He pauses. “ _ Not _ in person. And  _ not _ in Tony Stark in style.”

Stark pouts. “You’re no fun.” Murdock growls at him. “Okay, okay! Jesus. Rogers, mind getting our resident angst machines some clothes? We’ll meet you in the movie room.”

Rogers exits the room gratefully. Stark leads the way to the movie room, which turns out to be a room nearly filled with couches and chairs. All of the furniture is piled with blankets and pillows. Frank takes the corner of one of the couches, pushing blankets and a pillow out of his way. Murdock, surprisingly, curls into a ball beside him.

“You okay, Red?”

“Been better. Everything is loud.”

“We could leave.” Murdock tilts his head up. He looks smaller without the Daredevil suit.

“I’ll be fine.”

Frank frowns at him but doesn’t push the point. It’s nearly impossible to convince Murdock to do something he doesn’t want to do.

Rogers returns with shirts. Frank pulls off his old, bloodstained one and puts the new one on gratefully. Murdock makes a face at his shirt but does the same.

“The fabric is scratchy.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Frank asks as Stark starts the movie.

“Yeah.” Fucking Catholicism.

Frank tries to watch the movie (something about gnomes and Shakespeare), but it’s absolutely terrible. He’s pretty sure Stark chose it just to bother everyone else. Thirty or so minutes in, Murdock grabs his wrist and places his fingers over his pulse. Frank jerks back in surprise.

“Sorry,” Murdock mutters. “Grounding technique. I can stop.”

“No, it’s. You’re fine.” It comes out a little strangled.

Frank zones out, so he isn’t sure how much later it is, but Murdock’s fingers slip from his wrist. When he glances over, Murdock is asleep, his head pillowed on Frank’s shoulder. Frank smiles at him and tries not to move.

It’s kind of nice, even if he’s surrounded by Avengers and watching a movie about two gnomes in a star-crossed romance. Strange catches his eye and grins. Frank ignores him and closes his eyes, letting sleep pull him away.


End file.
